Denial is a River
by NinjaNovelist
Summary: "On seeing his blank slate of a face, doubt begins nagging at the back of her mind. But she immediately pushes it away, for denial is a far easier river to ride than the hard truth." (Silence in the Library, River's POV)


**Disclaimer: If you've seen the 50th anniversary special, then you know I'm not good enough to have had any involvement with that whatsoever.**

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The instant River sets eyes on him, she knows he's not her Doctor.

It's not just the different face, mind you. All it is is that this is not the man who can make armies retreat, demons run. He may very well think that he can, judging by how he is acting like he's in charge of the whole operation, but this was only a boy compared to her Doctor.

Hello Sweetie had meant nothing to him. Had she never used the words before in his timeline? She can't imagine why; there's hardly a single encounter where she hasn't used that timeless greeting.

He may be young, but it's also the same Doctor as ever. Arrogant, never shuts up, thinks he's a raving genius when he's really an idiot half the time... a sliver of the man he would be, like she's been given just a piece when she had once had the whole cake.

River glances up when he comes near, and pretends that their mere proximity doesn't set her hearts racing. He leans on the table and looks to her in expectation with a dash of curiosity, so she thanks him for answering her call. She never has to thank the older him, because he always treated it like she was doing _him _the favor. But it's just a chore for him at this age, one more person he has to save.

On seeing his blank slate of a face, doubt begins nagging at the back of her mind. But she immediately pushes it away, for denial is a far easier river to ride than the hard truth.

"You're doing a very good job of acting like you don't know me. I assume there's a reason?"

She barely even hears his reply while she leafs through her diary and rattles off names of places that they've been. Each is met with a look of complete nonrecognition, and her fear increases more and more, her denial river running dry.

But she laughs it off, still clinging to what little hope is left. She glances up, another question hanging on her lips, but she stops short when she really _sees_ him.

"Look at you," she breathes. "You're _young_."

She tries her hardest to hold back this early in his timestream, but here she just can't help but run a hand along his face. There is so much he hasn't been through yet (she glances briefly at his ginger, not-Amy friend). So many old scars that look fresh in his eyes, or not even there at all.

"You're younger than I've ever seen you."

Warning bells blare in her head at her words, but she is too captivated by the little boy before her to pay any heed.

"You've seen me before, then?" he asks, shying away from her touch.

All at once the evidence, careless words of which she had refused to take notice, comes flooding in torrents around her:

_I'm really not, ya know._

_A fairly good one, actually._

_Oh that was you?_

_Bet your life?_

_River Song, lovely name._

_Tell me you're not archaeologists._

_Get out._

"Doctor, please tell me you know who I am."

She's begging, she knows, but as his eyes dart to the hand still too reluctant to let him go, she knows the words he's going to say before he's said them.

"Who are you?"

River Song, Melody Pond, child of Amelia and Rory Pond, child of the TARDIS, former inmate at Stormcage Containment Facility, doctor in Archaeology, professor of Luna University, your bespoke psychopath, your wife, your love.

But before she can make any reply, an alarm sounds and duty calls.

Every river, no matter how long and winding, must run its course. And as he sets off to battle the shadows, River recalls words spoken long ago to her father and knows that for her, it is already too late.

_I think it's going to kill me._


End file.
